


just a kid

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, Crying, Dissociation, Grooming, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:56:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29933064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ranboo is just a kid. dream is the only person who does this for him. it can't be wrong if it feels so good, right?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 79





	just a kid

**Author's Note:**

> ventfic. very much not canon, but that's (hopefully) obvious. please be careful if this material can be triggering to you.  
> if you recognize my writing style, no you don't.

Ranboo goes to Dream for this. Dream is the only person willing to help. He knows it's not his fault he's fucked up. The bedroom in the community house is soft, at least. Ranboo goes to Dream when the need hits him, burning in his groin and threatening to consume him whole. 

The safeword is 'blue.' Ranboo picked it. Dream obeys it religiously, stopping even the gentlest worship when Ranboo sobs it out. It's used rarely. Dream was never overly rough with him, well aware that his half-and-half skin is so much more sensitive and tears so much easier. So the safeword is 'blue,' and Dream knows not to stop when Ranboo cries 'no' or 'stop.' 

Dream knows what Ranboo likes. He likes to be held down, pinned to the bed or Dream's chest by a lithe, muscular arm. Ranboo likes to cry and bite and Dream welcomes the bruises onto his skin as though Ranboo were painting him with the finest oil paints and the softest sable brush instead of teeth and claws. The bruises mottle Dream's chest and neck and shoulders and were it not for the scarf and turtleneck everyone would know about the marks. 

Dream likes that Ranboo cries and bites. Saliva doesn't burn like water does but Ranboo welcomes the pain anyways as Dream laps up his tears. The kisses are full of teeth and tongue and leave Dream's lips swollen and bruised. Dream likes that Ranboo cries and bites and struggles. Ranboo's hand yanks at Dream's hair while Dream eats him out, licking and sucking at his clit while deft fingers thrust in and out until Ranboo cums. 

Ranboo likes being held, melts into Dream's embrace while they fuck, sat atop Dream's thighs as he's thrusted into so lovingly and gently. He scratches and cries, tearing into Dream's back with his fingernails as he pleads and begs into Dream's shoulder. His pleas are graced with teeth when Dream thrusts just right, body tensing as he clenches down on Dream, trembling with pleasure. 

Dream fucks him softly, sweetly, holding Ranboo close to his chest and rubbing his back and hips and thighs. Ranboo whines as Dream whispers praises into his ear, tracing his earlobe with kisses and the occasional scrape of teeth punctuated with "good boy, you're doing so good, you're so good for me." Ranboo cries and pleads, protests falling from his lips as he digs his teeth into the meat of Dream's shoulder. 

Dream cuddles him, after. He lays Ranboo down and wipes the fluids from his body with a damp cloth before joining him in the bed. Ranboo curls around him, tucking his head beneath Dream's chin as sobs wrack his body. Dream continues to praise him, tells him he's a good boy, tells him he did so well, tells him he was so good for him. Ranboo drinks in the praise like alcohol, letting it numb his senses until his eyes and ears and nose and tongue are filled with Dream, Dream, _Dream_.

The marks hurt, but Ranboo loves them just as much as Dream. In the morning, Dream will rub lotion on the bruises that litter Ranboo's body, pressing gentle kisses to each red-green splotch. The bruises that peer out from the protection of Ranboo's suit are treated with healing potion, massaged into his skin like he is a king and Dream his servant. 

He's fine, after. Never mind the shake of his hands or how he jumps when he's touched. Ranboo is fine. The nights spent with Dream are special, are loving, are nothing like what Tommy and Tubbo warned him. He is worshipped by Dream when they are together and he loves the attention, loves feeling loved. 

It's only a matter of time until their relationship is found out. Ranboo knows this. Eventually, someone will find out, especially with Dream in fucking prison. He visits frequently, whenever the burn in his belly gets overwhelming, and prays Sam neglects the cameras. And disregards the bruises, now that Dream can't dote on him after like he used to. 

A ghost notices the bruising. Ranboo knows this because Glatt approaches him in Snowchester after he'd visited Tubbo, follows him around until he's done moving blocks. Glatt sits him down under a tree and despite towering over the ghost he feels so very, very small. 

"Is Dream raping you," Glatt asks bluntly. 

"No," Ranboo says. 

"Explain the bruises, then," Glatt says. "I've seen them before." 

Suddenly, Ranboo is reminded that Glatt is Tubbo's father. And Glatt showed up around the time Dream was imprisoned after Phil and Techno walked in on him with his hands in Tommy's pants after Tubbo had spilled the story. 

"I ask him to. I like it," Ranboo says. "He's gentle and it feels good. He doesn't mind when I cry and he stops when I safeword." The look on Glatt's face has only grown more intimidating. "There's nothing wrong with it." 

"Except he's twenty and you're a fucking minor, and he's got a reputation for this kind of shit," Glatt says. Ranboo pulls his shirt collar up. It won't hide the bruises Glatt's already seen, but maybe it'll hide the hickeys just below it. 

"It's not wrong. He's the only person who will do it for me." Ranboo's hands are suddenly much more interesting than Glatt. "I'm fine. I say yes. It's not like he's forcing me." 

"What about it exactly do you like?" Glatt asks. "Is it the closeness? The knowing he won't hurt you?" There's something unsaid. Ranboo ignores it. 

"He holds me," Ranboo says. "He holds me and tells me I'm good, and he's proud of me." 

"You can get that without the sex," Glatt says. 

"He holds me when I cry because I'm horny and feel disgusting, and he helps me not feel so dirty anymore," Ranboo says. "He tells me it's not bad or wrong to feel like that. I don't want to stop." 

"Then touch yourself," Glatt says. "Jerk it. Do it hard if you have to." 

"I cry when I do that," Ranboo says. 

"You just told me you cry during sex anyways, and that's not normal," Glatt counters. 

"But at least I'm not alone," Ranboo murmurs. 

"Touch yourself and ask for company after," Glatt says. "It's not wrong to want someone there." 

"I don't want to stop." 

"I'll snitch." Ranboo glares at Glatt. "I'll do it. I'll snitch to Sam and you'll never get to see him again." 

"You wouldn't." 

Glatt quirks a brow. Ranboo returns to staring at his hands. 

"You said you liked being cuddled. Come here." Glatt pats the ground next to himself. 

Ranboo scoots closer, letting himself lean into Glatt's side. Glatt wraps an arm around Ranboo, shifting so he can curl into the ghost easier. Glatt rubs his back, humming a quiet tune as Ranboo fights the violent tremors shaking his body. 

He can't help the hitch of his breath or the way his eyes water, tears threatening to trace the raised scars that mark where tears fell before. Shame burns in his chest. Ranboo recedes into his head as he tries not to cry into Glatt's shoulder. 

Glatt glances at him, concerned. 

"Safeword's blue," he mumbles, dissociating. "Don't let go." 

Glatt's grip on him tightens as he dissociates fully, tears sliding down his cheeks and burning his skin. "You're okay. You're good. You're doing fine," Glatt says. It sounds like he's underwater. 

Ranboo cries himself out, quiet sobs and plentiful tears as he dissociates madly in Glatt's embrace. He comes back to himself no longer trembling, face stinging from his own tears, Glatt murmuring reassurances into his hair. 

"Do you want to tell me why you're attached to sex like that?" Glatt asks. 

"Because it's all I'm good for and I don't want it to be bad," Ranboo murmurs. 

"What bad thing do you associate it with?" 

"I was five, and seven, and eight, and twelve, and thirteen, and fifteen, and sixteen, and seventeen," Ranboo says. "I never said yes. I didn't know it was wrong until -- until Dream was the only one who-" 

"Until the server rapist was the only one who'd touch you," Glatt finishes for him. 

"Yeah." 

"It's not wrong to be fucked in the head after that. I was bad after it happened to me," Glatt says, "and it only happened to me once." 

Ranboo doesn't reply. He's not sure how to. Glatt seems so okay, but Glatt was only raped once and Ranboo can't count the number of times he was fucked against his will. He stays curled into Glatt, who holds him until the sun starts to set and they have to return home.


End file.
